Toughening up

I used to think that that old Nietzsche-ism “what does not kill you makes you stronger” was a crock.

When I was young, I was not only tormented mercilessly by bullies, I was ignored and excluded by almost everyone else. I suppose that is an experience I share with anyone who has been the polar opposite of the alpha male. When we had to pair up into teams at swimming lessons, I was always the odd one who ended up without a partner. Whenever there was a birthday party, I was always the one – the only one – who never got an invitation to it. I had some friends, and one particularly good one, but nobody ever mistook me for popular. I certainly never did.

As I got older this happened less, but when it did, Nietzsche was nowhere to be found. I remember when I was fifteen, all my friends were invited to a party held by a new person to our school named Karen. I had thought I got along with her, but in the end, I was the one and only person I knew who was not invited. It stung bitterly, worse than it had as a young boy.

The leader of my singing group at church is getting married tomorrow. When it originally became clear to me that I probably wasn't going to get an invitation, I can't say I was hurt. Weddings are like that – the guest list can be as expansive as a continent or as small as a sesame seed. You can't take it personally.

But two weeks ago one of our singers told my wife that the group was singing for the wedding. I was stung immediately, for I knew what that had to mean. The group is singing: the group, that is, without me in it. My wife cautioned me that it was just something someone had said - might not be accurate, my singing colleague might be quoting an earlier idea that my group's leader tossed around and abandoned.

But it felt true, and I was stung in that moment. For five years now, I had been at his right hand, making him sound better by interweaving blues and melodic accompaniments over top of his strumming. If it were true I was being singled out for exclusion from a group I thought I was an important part of, there was no way I could avoid facing the implications of that – I did not know you disliked me. And I know now I don't have your trust. But really, all this adds up to little more than a grown up veneer over the same stabbing pain I felt as a boy- the twist of betrayal's razor sharp shiv.

I swore in the car-ride home I was going to quit the group, if it was true.

“Don't take my word for it,” My wife told me, “It's only something somebody said, and you don't know if it is the case; don't make any rash decisions.”

I told her slowly and carefully that it was not vanity, and I reminded her about how I had spent an entire childhood excluded from so much. She understood, but still thought I was rash.

“I shouldn't have said anything,” She replied.

And it bothered me for about half an hour more.

Today, I don't care. I realize that I don't sing in church to make friends. I don't add guitar licks to please people. I do it for Him, and I do it because I can. Many people do not have these gifts, and I have been given something wonderful – the ability to actually move people with music. Picking up my marbles and going home is not the right response to a puzzling exclusion; a renewed sense of charity is. As Henri Nouwen might say, affection for people and hospitality for them does not have to express itself in proximity to them.

My friend is getting married tomorrow. And he is my friend. I do not know if I am his, though I do think in some way I am. But that does not matter. I consider him friend, and he is marrying the woman he loves. May God bless and keep them.

As for me, I will redouble my efforts with everyone – to be a friend, and to make a difference. It does not matter whether they see it or perceive it. It is the thing itself, and not what people see, that counts. I don't have to waste time in stinging pain. Nietzsche was right in that – I am stronger. Strong enough to wish everyone well, no matter how they regard me. :-)